Smoking Section

When I moved into this apartment earlier this year, the management took pains to remind me that this is a "non-smoking community" and that they don't tolerate smoking inside the apartments. I assured them I was not a smoker and got this look from one of the staff members who made it a point to say again, "yeah, we absolutely do not tolerate smoking here."

Hm.

Four months later, I'm still trying to figure out what it is about me that says "look at me, I'm a closet smoker" that I'd get a double-warning like that. Anyone who knows me knows I'm so far from being a smoker that I can't even convincingly fake lighting a cigarette for film. Maybe it's because the management knew I was coming from Vegas - vice capital of the West Coast - that they felt the need to remind me. I'm sure everyone's convinced we all smoke, drink, gamble and frequent brothels down there. While I have no doubt some fine Las-Vegans actually live that way, I assure you I do not. I don't go out of my way to eat organic and vegetarian and also work out five or six days a week only to negate any said healthy efforts with cancer sticks. So imagine, if you will, how positively hilarious I am finding it that, while I may look like some sort of deviant smoker, my inconsiderate neighbors really are going against the community rules and smoking willy-nilly in and out of the apartment. These people smoke 24-7 like they're on some sort of holy mission to self-destruct and take anyone else who is stupid enough to live near them out, too. (That would be me.)

There is no standard air-conditioning in Washington, I've learned. And this summer weather, while pleasant, can get a bit sticky. So if there's a cool breeze outside and it's 80+ degrees in your apartment, you open a window to try to get some cross ventilation going. Not quite so pleasant, however, when the McSmokersons downstairs are out on their balcony having one of their puff sessions. I don't know which brand of cigarettes they prefer, but the second-hand these fuckers produce is particularly heinous. In college, I worked the guest services desk in a resort on the strip and had patrons blow smoke in my face while I tended to their needs. I didn't flinch. I've done the club-hopping nights in Vegas, too, and not once in all those years did the smoke-ridden atmosphere ever interfere with my ability to have a good time in spite of it. My Japanese grandfather - may he rest in peace - smoked his whole, long life and I can't recall being particularly bothered by it when we visited my grandparents. I've even had friends smoke around me - albeit away from my general direction - and it never irritated me or became so bothersome that I felt I had to get preachy and remind them of the dangers of smoking tobacco... on friendship, that is. I was tolerant. I felt that, if you were considerate about the habit and smoked in designated areas, I really couldn't harbor any bad feelings about it.

Well, I think I'm starting to change my mind. Or, at least, am having it changed for me. Living upstairs from chronic smokers and down the hall from obnoxious ones who leave butts everywhere is seriously making me feel right fogey about this. The kicker about the McSmokersons (and what sets them apart from the pesky kids down the hall) is the fact that I know these people are smoking in the apartment. Rainy days are their special "Let's Smoke Inside" holidays but, even on a clear day, I can be on the balcony outside to get some air and then ultimately return to my office to find it rank like a retro Vegas hotel room. The carpet in here seems to be saturated with the stench that is seeping up through the ceiling and, in my hall, the smoke comes in through my heater vent (which I can't close but have taken care to block off with a picture frame - can't wait until winter when I'll need to use it again).

I can't bring myself to complain to management. I hate being difficult even though I'd like nothing more than to go down to the office, point a finger at the staff and shout, "A-HA! Think me a problem smoker, do you?" I just don't see myself renewing my lease at the end of the year, so it seems like a lot of hassle. Also, I haven't quite mastered my "A-HA" yet.

So I'm living amidst smokers and I'm not liking it all that much. Silver lining? It has made me more efficient in my chores. Hell yes. See, I get up early in the morning - especially on weekends - and I vacuum. Sometimes I rearrange some of my heavy furniture to freshen up the place. And getting up early allows me more time to do morning calisthenics in heavy shoes. Or do my weekend laundry with the clunky washer and dryer that always seem unbalanced and unusually loud. I also get more time to play fetch with my dog and her favorite, heavy rubber ball around the living room. *thunk-a-thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk* Go ahead - try to smoke me out, McSmokersons. My dogs wake me up at five a.m. almost every morning.

And, since I think I got way too preachy there for my taste, here's a smoking-appropriate chimp clip to, uh, lighten things up a bit. (Actually it's rather heart-breaking... who gave "Charlie" the damn cigarettes in the first place?) Though it feels like I do already, I imagine living in an apartment above smokey monkeys would be seriously stinky - don't you?

Hugs for guns...

I've been gone a while, haven't I? Been keeping busy with the whole "settling in" bit but mostly feeling retarded because of how long it's actually taking me to settle in. Yeah, I'm ridiculous. And the fact that the process is still ongoing is doubly lame. But the weather in Washington is positively gorgeous lately (I took the below, poorly-composed photo downtown in my excitement... never before have I seen so many happy, pale peeps willingly burning in the sun at once; never before have I understood how wonderful it is to get a dose of much-overdue Vitamin D) and my psychotic dog is easing out of her loud and nerve-wracking separation-anxiety phase (a whole missing blog or two I'd happily spare you), so I have been enjoying the time I'm taking in my attempt to ease in.












I also haven't had much to say. Am laden with writer's block. Which isn't always a bad thing - frustrating, but not bad. Been getting a lot of reading in. When the blockage gives way, I'm hoping I'll have stockpiled plenty of inspiration in my downtime. IF the blockage every gives way, however, is anyone's guess.

Here's something hug-related. I meant to blog about this back when the article was actually new. True to form, I'm posting it a couple of weeks late:

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/28/style/28hugs.html?_r=1

W. T. F. Right?

So adults (and some kids, too, in all fairness) find hugging faux pas. Superficial, even. Surprise, surprise. I don't know - I'd happily prefer teens hugging one another excessively between classes as an alternative to, say, gunning one another down in the hall. Wouldn't you? Handshakes and high fives are boring. Facebook is making us more socially awkward in the real world. For me, a physical hug beats *hugs* any day of the week and twice on Thursdays. Honestly (and this is coming from someone who always put lessons first in her school days), who cares if you're a minute late for class if you come across a friend who could use a good squeeze?

Slow news days. You gotta love 'em.